


Birdcage

by Laine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Future Fic, Kink Meme, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-26
Updated: 2012-06-26
Packaged: 2017-11-08 14:48:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/444339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laine/pseuds/Laine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He dreams of rescue, she dreams of flight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birdcage

She insists that she no longer believes in dreams. Too many have fallen away, crushed beneath the steely fists of merciless gods, torn to shreds and scattered by the harsh winter winds.   
  
And yet she cannot stop dreaming of flight.   
  
The air up here is thin, crisp and clear. The Sky Cells of the Vale of Arryn- "as high as honor", but surely no living person holds honor this high; that's another time, another place, another life. The scant moisture in the atmosphere forms wispy clouds at eye-level; she itches to touch them, but she knows from experience that she will be disappointed- they do not feel like gossamer, but like nothing at all.   
  
A thin slick of ice coats the lip of the cell, and it is slippery on her palms as she grips the edge, the cold of the stones bracing on her bare knees. Behind her, against her, inside her, a pulsing rhythm that rocks her back and forth, her head and shoulders tilting over the edge, then back, then over, then back.   
  
(Jaime had objected to this at first, but she noted the gleam in his eyes- danger still appeals to him, whatever else he might say.)   
  
Each time Jaime's thrusts push her forward, she imagines herself falling- nay,  _flying_ . Flying as she does in her dreams, above the wispy clouds, past the hills and fields, on and on until she reaches the place where the map ends. She sighs with pleasure; Jaime echoes the sound, mistaking it for a response to the feel of his cock inside her (there's pleasure in that, to be sure, but what she experiences now is so much  _more_ ). She pictures herself with wings, fluttering and soaring- "Little Bird," a voice still whispers in her mind, a voice that will stay with her until the end of her days.    
  
Suddenly, a forward thrust causes her hands to slip on the ice. Her heart leaps into her throat as her body propels forward- her head, shoulders, arms, chest push into the air...the clouds look like webs, but they cannot catch her...it's the end, or the beginning...she's falling, she's  _flying..._   
  
And then a strong arm wraps around her waist and hauls her back into the sky cell. Jaime pulls her into his lap and presses her to his chest- she can hear his heart pounding and pounding, quicker than a rabbit's. He wraps her in his embrace, burying his face in her hair, holding her as though he never intends to let her go again.   
  
She can feel him against her leg, and he's as hard as ever- he's saved her life, and there's nothing that arouses him more than the idea of rescue.   
  
A part of her always feels angry at this point; he gets what he wants by keeping her from flight, by imprisoning her in the cage of his arms. And yet she never comes up to the sky cells without him, never steps to the edge alone.    
  
She has her moment to fly, he has his moment to save. And then they take their pleasure against the inside wall and return to the castle together, never speaking of it until the next time they wander up to the cells.   
  
For to speak of it would be to admit that they still hold with dreams, and the Kingslayer and the Lady of Winter cannot allow  _that_ .   



End file.
